


i might fuck your friend (ain't made my mind up)

by pxint



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxint/pseuds/pxint
Summary: There are times when Quinn’ll come around looking for Brady and Brady won’t be home.





	i might fuck your friend (ain't made my mind up)

Matt doesn’t know Quinn as well as Brady does. 

Matt and Quinn aren’t even friends, Matt’s role in his life is pretty much what you’d think it is. His best friend’s older brother, never anything more, and despite how long Brady’s known Quinn it’s always been that way. Matt doesn’t really mingle with Brady’s friend group and it goes the same both ways. Because even as brothers, they’re not, like, the same person. They’ve got their own lives, their own personalities, their own friends. 

The bottom line being that Matt isn’t the type to cross over and hang out with the guys Brady sticks with, for his own good maybe. A lot of them aren’t even the people he’d think to fuck with, loud and obnoxious and none of them trying to uphold that Good Canadian Boy persona he’d gotten so used to playing in the OHL. 

He especially doesn’t try to befriend any of the guys Brady hangs out with over the offseason, when he’ll bring them home and all Matt can hear through the walls is loud chatter and, _fuck_ , he hates having to deal with any of that. But he’s not any better, he recognizes that at least. So it’s fine. _That’s_ fine.

But the thing is Brady’s an inconsiderate piece of shit. When he’s with Quinn specifically. He treats him like family which Matt gets, but he’ll drag Quinn along with them _everywhere_ and. Okay. That’s alright sometimes. But Matt’s told him to lay off at least a little, telling Brady that he knows they’re best friends but having a brother like Brady is already pain in the ass. It’s a lot harder to get any quiet with Quinn around. 

On top of that, Quinn’s a pretty face. He’s a pretty face with sly looks and Matt isn’t even sure if it’s right to think about him the way he does does, but Brady inviting him around at practically all times doesn’t make it easier in the slightest. 

“Can you get anymore fucking codependent,” Matt says, after Brady tells Quinn he’ll see him later and shuts the door behind him. 

Brady clicks the lock shut, looking Matt over a little critically. “Jealous that all your friends hate you?” he says, like that’s the reason Matt doesn’t want Quinn around. Like he’s not _this_ close to literally bursting. 

“You’re a dickhead, you know that?” Matt says, and Brady cheeses at him like he knows it full fucking well. He could get _asshole_ tattooed to his arm and Matt would think it’s a birthmark.

“‘s why we’re brothers,” Brady says, and good-naturedly shoves past Matt to head up to his room, taking two steps at the time.

It’s okay as long as it is. Nothing spirals out of control, Matt tries not to look Quinn in the eyes and keeps his words short and clipped whenever they talk, never starting a conversation without needing to. But that’s not all he has to worry about, because sometimes he’ll feel a touch of his gaze on the side of his head, and it’s clear enough that Matt struggles to ignore it. 

It gets harder to stomp things down when they’re right in front of him and Matt can feel his face burn whenever he so much as catches Quinn’s gaze. It happens often enough that when he looks away, he’ll glance back a few seconds later, hitched on the idea that Quinn’s looking at _him_. Even while he’s talking to Brady about whatever, and it’s a lot harder not to try and justify his wants when it gets to that point. 

There are times when Quinn’ll come around looking for Brady, and Brady won’t be home, due in a couple minutes maybe, and Quinn sticks around until he shows up. Because he’s like family and it’s normal, but it gets a little more difficult every time until suddenly Brady not being home is when Quinn will chat him up with smalltalk, and - 

Matt’s sleazy enough not to reject him when Quinn leans over a presses a hand to his thigh, when he squeezes a little and keeps talking about whatever topic they’ve stumbled onto. 

Matt’s not trying to get into his pants but it happens and it _keeps_ happening, right after Quinn tells him how bad he wants it, and that burn of pleasure Matt gets in the pit of his stomach is relentless. Quinn’s sweet for it, fluttering his lashes at him and Matt’s job is easy from there on. He’s pretty sure nobody knows yet, but that’s really just one of the best parts. 

He’s got Quinn’s back pressed to his bed this time, the tiny fucking twin sized bed slotted along the wall, and he’s holding onto the headboard like it’s the only way he’s forcing back any chance of him getting pushed up the bed. 

Matt’s got a hand flush against his lips, firm and solid, and Quinn lets out these muffled noises with each thrust because if anything, this is dangerous. His legs are quivering, one ankle thrown over his shoulder, and Matt can get at him perfectly. At just the right angle that he’s got Quinn’s eyes watering, letting out muffled noises underneath his fingers. 

“Gotta be a little quieter,” he tells him, and leans in just to set his teeth into the skin between Quinn’s neck and shoulder, leaving a bite mark he hopes blooms into something darker. 

That’s another thing he loves: marking Quinn up in places that are hopefully easy to conceal, just so Matt can see the ways the marks have faded the next time they meet, and renew them like fucking library books. Making temporary bruises permanent.

Quinn makes another muffled sound, and it could be words, or a moan, but Matt doesn’t have time to check. _They_ don’t have time, because Brady’s supposed to be back sooner or later and there’s no way they can finish this once that front door opens. Not without any lingering suspicion. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” Matt whispers, straightening out enough that he gets to see Quinn on full display. The flush he’s got trickling down to his shoulders, watery eyes, and the desperate way he’s trying to lock himself down. Fingers clutching the headboard, his other hand wrapped in the sheets, and Matt gets to mess him up like nobody else does. “Y’look so fucking good, _god_ , I wish you could see yourself now.”

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut, and Matt feels him roll his hips against his before he sees it, taking that as a cue to reach in and jerk him off. He doesn’t have to move his hand as much as his thrusts do it for him, but he’s nice enough to keep his grip tight. So he can watch Quinn fall off the edge before he does, practically breaking in front of him. 

He’s never silent when he comes, always letting out a sharp moan against Matt’s hand just for him to muffle it up as best as he can. The wall’s are thin, and fucking him in a partially full house is a goddamn sport when it’s this easy just to listen in and know what they’re doing - with Quinn being this loud. 

He tightens around Matt enough that it’s almost _impossible_ to keep going without immediately coming, but he’s got a few more thrusts in him, fucking into him until he gets his head spinning. 

Matt takes his hand back from Quinn’s lip only after he comes, pulling out nice and slow, and Quinn’s perfectly silent as he watches him tie off the condom and trash it in the bin on the other end of the room. 

He breathes out a small sigh as Matt wipes down his stomach, and the towel he uses isn’t damp but it’s the best he can do for now. Quinn doesn’t complain, instead sitting up as best as he can and taking his clothes as they’re handed to him.

“Brady’s gonna find out someday, you know,” Quinn tells him almost solemnly, looking up at Matt as he tugs his shirt on. It’s the first thing he says and part of Matt thinks he has a point.

“Not if we’re careful. Does he know you like guys?” He’s already half dressed, but he still appreciates the way Quinn’s eyes drop to his boxers. 

“I don’t think so. I haven’t - exclusively come out,” he says, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as he gets off the bed. _Matt’s_ bed. Leaving behind rumpled sheets.

“Then we should be fine,” Matt tells him, and chances leaning in just to press a kiss overtop the mark he’d left earlier, now hidden underneath thin fabric. 

Quinn brings his hand up to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Okay,” he says, eyes going warm. “He’s gonna wonder why we’re suddenly _friends_ , but -“

Matt can hear the front door swing open, and Quinn blinks up at him.

“You should go,” he says, just like always, and Quinn laughs easily.

“Yeah,” he says, and backs away towards the door. “I’ll see you.”

Matt nods his head, and when Quinn shuts the door behind him he feels a heavy weight lift off his chest. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, he tells himself. Absolutely nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> i've wanted to write a fic like this for the past week and i sat down to actually do it today after a sudden burst of energy and meddling with the beast that is quinn and brady's friendship was the first thing that came to mind so. porn. woohoo
> 
> title from 'devilish' by chase atlantic


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